


Put Your Kingdom Up For Sale

by attractedtokitchenware



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brother-Sister Relationships, Character Death, Eventual Smut, F/M, Major Character Injury, Other, mention of drugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 21:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17795123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attractedtokitchenware/pseuds/attractedtokitchenware
Summary: The Valeska brothers have not left Gotham unscathed. There also seems to be someone else who left their company harmed and changed.





	Put Your Kingdom Up For Sale

**Author's Note:**

> translations:   
> isoveli - big brother  
> pikkusiskso - little sister  
> sairaanhoidon - medical treatment  
> rakkani - my love

It was not a home; of that much, she was sure. If anything, the building, the walls that surrounded her, covered head to toe in graffiti, in paintings of garish deaths, the multiple ‘ha’s drawn and scratched alike, and even the beautiful mosaics that had been painted over, no, this was not a home. It was a lair. A den of nasty things, of horrors. And yet, she could not stop herself from placing her hand on the wall and feeling her way along, until she felt something. Until she felt the nearest gun. She felt a trigger click, the mechanisms fit together and recoil, but there was no bullet. No, it was one more chamber away. One more click, and whomever now held the gun in the sick demented game Jerome liked to play would die.

In truth, though, she wished it was not Jerome who held the gun. Of course, all of Gotham would be grateful, but she’d come to care deeply for the son of the circus. Amidst all of this (his) insanity, amidst all of her own killing, her insatiable relationship with Jonathan, Jerome had become a brother in arms. A true brother, if she were being honest with herself.

When she’d first met him, she was unsure how to feel. Jonathan had been once more taken into Arkham’s custody, along with most of the other Rogues. Jim Gordon was getting insanely good at his job, working out villains identities, and catching them in the act. The only one he’d had yet to encounter personally was Haze, herself. (He still hadn’t, and while she had a very small trail of bodies compared to the others, a trail of bodies was a trail of bodies.) Kalevi suspected his difficulty in placing her identity was that she was not registered anywhere, save for Finland and nowhere else. That was just her real name, though, she’d been smart in coming to America, new papers, new name, new family, new life. And then Jonathan had gone and mucked it all up. But she’d fallen hard and fast, despite his experimentation, his lying, their fights. And when bare bones showed, neither blanched away from the other. They were hopelessly in love, and while Jonathan was a distinguished (previously) professor and warden (previously), and Kalevi had been a child of war and fighting (those who fight by the sword die by the sword), she’d been naive, and Jonathan inexperienced. They fit together like puzzle pieces, though, in the end.

So when he had been taken into custody for being careless once more, she’d had no choice but to try and break him out herself. What she hadn’t known was that one Jerome Valeska, Jervis Tetch, and her best friend Edward Nygma, along with her beloved Jonathan were already plotting to break out. However, Kalevi was quicker. Having spent almost a decade of her life assassinating people in high places, she knew how to map a fortress such as Arkham. The criminal wing was easy to spot, as the guards were not at all subtle about the way they treated the criminals (significantly worse than those whom had administered themselves, in her eyes), and several nights were spent perched on a guard tower, the uniformed officer unconscious beneath her foot, mapping out and writing down guard changes. She later made her move as Haze. She would be officially labeled as a criminal afterward, but her mask kept her well hidden from the cameras that she had left on, so as to make it seem like an amateur had done the deed of freeing those locked away in the criminal wing of Arkham.

The halls were dark, with only flickering lights to suffice, which was fine with her, as she blended in rather easily with the walls, the only thing to give her away being the glint of her sword as she sliced the throat of any guard daring enough to come near her. There were hardly any on guard changes, save for the guard at the caged doors to the rest of the wing. Unfortunately for her, and smart of the new warden, the head of the criminal wing had left his keys in his office, and she was in no mood to spend precious time unlocking the head of the wing’s door, and grabbing keys, endangering her mission fruitlessly, especially when she could unlock the doors on her own and with little effort; the rest of the hall, a cakewalk. It seemed few guards ever ventured too far into the criminal wing, for fear of those that awaited them. With each passing name on the doors, she could see why. Fearsome villains resided within the walls, though she doubted any of them deserved to be inside more than she did. Perhaps Edward, but he was still a kind man when it was needed, Kalevi found it difficult to be kind to anyone besides a few of the Rogues.

Her blue eyes scanned each inch of the hall. The walls were grimy, and while dark, she could’ve sworn that some what seemed like dirt was blood; the floor was a pale tile, monotonous in its design. She suspected the rooms were the same, which would have been enough to drive  _ her _ insane on the first day of incarceration. She suddenly remembered why she wore a mask when patrolling as Haze. On each door was a set of bars, only long enough to fit two, maybe three of Kalevi’s small fists. Surely enough for Scarecrow to latch onto and terrify anyone walking by. The thought brought a grin to her lips. Oh how she’d missed him in the past weeks. Each step was another closer.

Her eyes glanced over name tag after name tag. She spotted Edward’s, and huffed. She was not here for just Jonathan, after all. Her friends, what few she had, were inside as well.

She outstretched her hand, allowing energy to flow out, to sink inside of the locked door, to seek out it’s locking mechanisms and pull them apart and make then turn and click to release the lock. To release her friend, and confidant. The metal in her energy clicked and the door popped open; with an extra pull from her fingers curling forward, Edward stood to stare and grin.

“Well, well, well, looks like you showed up a little early Kal. Jerome wanted to leave in a few more weeks.” She knew who Jerome was. Jonathan had tried to get her to come and meet him many times, and each time she’d given him a resounding ‘no’. She had no desire to meet the most insane man in Gotham, though now it seemed that she had no choice.

“Who else was coming with you?”

“Jervis Tetch, Jonathan, and Oswald.” He stood mere inches from her now, smiling down. He stood nearly half a meter taller than she, him at 1.85 meters, her at 1.41. His grin was, in a way, malevolent, but the moment he stared into her blue eyes from his deep brown ones, they embraced. It was good to be reunited with her friend, her best friend, whom she’d missed for so long.

“It’s good to see you, Enigma.” The sparkle in his eyes reignited at the sound of the nickname she’d given him. When they pulled away, she instructed him to go and find Jervis Tetch, or as the news had dubbed him, The Mad Hatter, Penguin, and Jonathan Crane, her Scarecrow. She went on down to the end, where it was obvious that Jerome Valeska awaited. While there were no guards at the door, she approached with baited steps. Slowly, she wrapped her hands around the short sword she held, and pushed onward to the solid metal door. Fitting, of the most dangerous criminal that resided within the walls of the asylum. Why Edward and Jonathan saw fit to team up with him was beyond her, unless his renowned way of words had swayed them. A feeling of adverseness washed over her. It would certainly take more than a few well spoken words to sway her to pledge her fealty to the man, but all the while she questioned her own strength. Never had she trained, nor had she been taught to expect such a foe. But perhaps, if Jonathan and Edward had gone far enough to place their freedom in the hands of Valeska, she could do so as well.

She had stopped at the door, reluctant to push her power inside and release him. The only thing that pushed to go further was the thought that if she did not, Valeska would escape on his own and come after her. Come after _ Jonathan. _

She followed through. She felt the cogs twist as her energy moved through the door, sorting out the intricate lock that Jerome’s door had been given. It was different from Edwards, whom she had hoped now found this Jervis Tetch, and her Jonathan. When she had sorted out Valeska’s lock, she would free Tetch and Jonathan, and, time willing, perhaps the other inmates, just to cause a little chaos. She loved it, the freedom that came with being free and unchained by the League of Shadows, and had found in her freedom a love for causing mischief. She never killed unless she had to, or felt the blood lust to do so. If there was anything about herself that she loathed more than anything, it was the sometimes insatiable bloodlust left within her by her father, Ra’s al Ghul.

The lock clicked, and the door slid open. Once more, she gave it another tug with her power, her fingers curling forward in a ‘come hither’ motion. Inside was a dark room, dark and desolate, but something resided inside. Something evil. Something insane. Rather, someone. As she walked further inside, she felt trapped; she could not shrug off the feeling that someone was behind her. The door slammed shut, and she was left in the dark. Her eyes adjusted quickly. There was a maniacal laugh that echoed throughout the room.

“Who are you, huh? A pretty doll sent to kill me?” She felt the air around her move, and outstretched her sword hand. The blade brushed past something, a shoulder perhaps, and there was another giggle. “Well well! She knows how to fight!” Kalevi growled, but remained otherwise silent. She did not like to engage in conversation when she fought, though she assumed that Valeska was trying to intimidate her. No such thing would come of his taunts, though she did suspect that he would enjoy the way that the fight would go if he continued to rush about her, speaking his sultry words of hypnotism and attempting to get a rise out of her.

“Come now, doll! Won’t you talk to me!” His breath passed over her ear, and she reacted quickly; quick enough to shock Jerome. The air rushed out of him as she slammed her elbow into his gut and pushed him back. The next few movements to her were a blur. She spun on her heel, slammed the hilt of her blade into his chest, and used the foot she was not currently balancing on to pull Jerome on to the ground, his back on her chest, and blade to his throat. He was laughing hysterically.

“So she can fight! Ooh I might just have to hire you if you survive this!” He was moving his hand to the blade with what he thought was stealth, but Kalevi had already sensed the move. As he thought he was getting close to turning the tables, Kalevi’s calf wrapped around his forearm, and pulled it behind him swiftly. Now he was cackling. “Oho!” He exclaimed. “You’ve got quite the bite! Maybe we should reconsider your payment?” Kalevi scoffed, though she remained unspeaking. The blade was coated with a blue energy, and she was not sure whether Jerome was shocked, or if he admired it, but she managed to unlock the door once more and push it open all the way. Then she released Jerome. He was grinning like a madman.

“Quite the talent you have there, doll.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say!” He lunged at her, but she sidestepped him easily and used her booted foot to send him sprawling into the hall.

“I’m not here to kill you, Jerome Valeska. My lover and friend were here, and I merely did as they asked. I set you free, like you planned to escape with them. My lover’s debt is repaid.” Jerome was smiling at her when he got to his feet. “Lover, eh? Who is this lover? Nygma? Tetch? Oh my, my, is it the Scarecrow?” His lips spread from ear to ear at the way that her body stiffened at the mention of the Scarecrow. In truth, she didn’t care that he knew who she loved, who she was truly here for, but if he was saying Scarecrow, that could only have meant one thing. Jonathan had been Scarecrow this whole time, or most of it anyway. That had the potential to cause significant issues. Scarecrow liked to take his time, to drive those around him mad, and they did not have the time, nor the resources. Unless Scarecrow had managed to concoct a bit of fear toxin in his toilet bowl, which neither of them would stoop so low for. Jonathan found his toxin to be sacred, in a sort of sense. He was superior, and his toxin with him.

Jerome was still staring when Edward came to find them, odd and out of place in his black and white striped pajamas. All of them were. Edward had a look on his face that suggested he would be much happier and content when he was back in his green suit and bowler hat, sipping hot tea on his sofa while Kalevi confided in him her latest relationship troubles, or just read a book on his shoulder. They were close like that, and she hoped that things would remain so in the near future, despite all the things the guards had done to him, and the rest of them alike.

“I found Tetch and Crane. You have the keys, right?” Kalevi glared in exasperation.

“You’re an intelligent man, Enigma. If I had the keys, I would have handed them to you. Show me to the closest one first.”

Tetch’s cell was nearer to Valeska’s than she’d thought, and if she had truly any sense she would have freed Tetch second, rather than wasting valuable time having a small squabble with Jerome Valeska. She spread her power into the door and opened it, then bid Edward to bring her to Jonathan as Jerome entertained Jervis Tetch. The two seemed to get along fairly well, with Tetch speaking rhymes and Jerome speaking a rough drawl that drew Tetch in and gave him an inordinate amount of pleasure. It appeared that Jerome Valeska was indeed as smooth with his words as many others had praised, or cursed him for. Kalevi felt once more the twinge of reluctance to be and stay near the man.

Next was Oswald's. Oswald was a small man, though still taller than she, with an odd walk and crazy hair. The walk was what had earned him the title of Penguin, and she was to understand that while he had loathed the nickname at first, after he'd killed Fish Mooney, he had owned up to and reclaimed it as a title of power. His door came open easily, and while he had stared at Jerome and Jervis for a very long time, he moved to embrace Ed and thanked Kalevi profusely. She gave him a soft smile that could only be seen through her eyes, and moved on, following Edward to the Scarecrow's cell.

Upon reaching Jonathan Crane, Kalevi was quick to push and click the lock, as it was her fourth time with such, and she was glad for the fast reunion. The door opened on Scarecrow, grinning and chuckling lowly, as if he and Jonathan had been having an argument. The look of Scarecrow vanished, though, and was replaced with a disheveled Jonathan Crane. His bright blue eyes locked on Kalevi’s own, and he stood and raced toward her. His large hands wrapped around her small waist, bringing her upward. She lost her balance as several things happened all at once. She dropped her sword and removed her mask, then flung her legs around Jonathan’s abdomen, and her hands wound around his shoulders. Jonathan was swaying slightly, trying to keep himself standing, but Kalevi had other plans. She plunged her hands into his dirty hair and kissed his lips with a hunger she had not known had been inside of her. Jonathan groaned, his hands spreading across her back, then drifting down to her ass to grip and hold her up as he kissed back fervently. There was a groan from behind Kalevi, causing her to jump down from Jonathan and turn angrily. Jerome was grinning once again, Tetch looked almost uncomfortable, and Edward… well, she’d never seen him look so distant and sad. As though he wished he had someone to wait for him as Kalevi waited for Jonathan. Perhaps he did, and Kalevi was only reading him wrong. Perhaps he missed his partner, whomever that might be.

“Now that you’ve had your little reunion, maybe we could get out of here?” Jerome added a smile to the end of his sentence. Kalvei was continued to be highly perplexed by his disposition, whether he was annoyed, angry, or just fucking so insane that he found everything to be amusing. It was most likely the later of the three, given what she’d often heard of him.

“I only expect Jonathan and Edward to be with me, but, I think I can make room in the plan for the three of you.” Jerome’s grin widened, if that was even possible. “Great thinking, doll.” Jonathan’s hand tightened on hers.

“Stop calling me that, Valeska.”

“Jerome will do just fine, baby.” She pushed past him with her annoyance fully visible, Jonathan holding her hand and trailing behind her. Edward stood on her right, Jerome on her left and Tetch behind them.

“That too. Maybe you should learn my actual name instead of taking obvious stabs in the dark.”

Jerome laughed outright at this. “If that’s what you would prefer, but I don’t think Jonny boy here would be much appreciative about it.” Edward held out her sword for her. In a split second, she had released Jonathan’s hand to use her own to shove Jerome against the wall, her blade held aloft in the air with her power.

“Why don’t you just shut your mouth for the rest of this escape? I took you out of that cell, and I could just as easily put you back into it.” Jerome stared her in the eyes, a serious look on his face all of a sudden. Kalevi pushed off of him. “That’s what I thought.” And for the walk to the end of the hall, he was silent. Then Kalevi turned, pushing her sword back into Edward’s hands.

“Jonathan, I left marks and clues to the way I came in. Edward, you’ll have no trouble deciphering them. If I don’t catch up soon, wait in the car.”

“Ooh, I think you forgot something, sweetheart. What about the watchtowers, hm?” She turned back, and in the stead of anger and annoyance, there was only truth; bare, honest, bloody truth.

“They are all dead.”

 

Kalevi smiled at the memory. She’d held such adversity toward Jerome in the beginning, yet as time went on, and Jonathan worked alongside him more and more, Kalevi had had no choice but to spend time with him. With each bout, though, she warmed up to him more. This perplexed Jerome, but he would shrug it off each time the sane piece of his mind pushed at the question.  _ Why?  _ But eventually he’d had no choice but to ask. There was something inside of him that just ached to know. Kalevi was a voice of reason sometimes, and an encouraging one during others.

When he did ask, Kalevi took a moment to respond. Too long, in Jerome’s eyes, but he’d learned when they’d first met that Kalevi seemed to contemplate everything she said, as though she’d never had steady times of conversation. According to Crane, she never had, but he would never say why. All of the secrecy angered Jerome, but, Kalevi was the only person who could keep Jerome on his toes, which made angering her dangerous. He liked that.

“At first, I thought it was because I had no choice. But, as things have progressed, I find that I care for you. My  _ isoveli _ .”

“Mm. What does that mean?”

Kalevi laughed. For the first time, she had released a full, hearty, melodic and beautiful laugh. Jerome felt something stir within his heart. In his head, some distant, reawakened neuron told him that he wanted to make sure that she stayed that happy. Most of him disagreed, but for once he listened to his heart. Kalevi would stay happy, if he had to die for it.

“It means brother in my native tongue.” Her accent dripped through, instead of her teeth meeting for the ‘ _ t _ ’, her tongue met the top row of her teach, making the word sound like  _ thongue _ , and the ‘ _ n _ ’ curling just a bit too much. He thought it was cute.

The door in front of her pushed open to reveal Jerome standing in a bright red robe and not much else. He held a gun underneath his chin, but he passed it off to the large man who was holding a katana over his shoulder. She could not see his expression, but saw Jerome’s as plain as day. He was grinning, as always, his hair slicked back; he looked handsome, like he belonged in the mansion, not as an employee of the owner.

At the sound of the heavy door closing behind her rather noisily, all the heads turned; Jerome was the only one who approached her, arms held open for an embrace. She obliged. The robe was soft, and Jerome’s embrace was warm. His smile faded only a small amount, from a shit-eating grin to a softer one. One of love, love for his  _ pikkusisko _ .

The other men were still staring when Jerome stepped away from Kalevi. “What can I do for you today, sweets?”

“I know what she can do for me,” said the fat man, still holding the katana over his shoulder nonchalantly. Jerome frowned for once, but Kalevi just shook her head. He need not bother himself with something when she could, and should, handle it for herself.

She beckoned the obese man forward with her finger while pushing Jerome away; this made the man, whom she assumed was the Greenwood that Jerome had written of in his letters sent to her from Arkham, laughed.

“You’ll regret that, girly.” He brandished the katana in a barbaric way, holding the hilt with only one hand in the center.

“I doubt so, when you can’t even hold a blade correctly.” The remark earned a chuckle from Jerome, who had gathered the others in the room around them, as though she and Greenwood were about to have a fight worthy of placing bets into a pool. That could not have been farther from the truth, though, Jerome did seem to have his own ideas. As Kalevi reached her hand out, he  _ tsk _ ed disapprovingly.

“Play fair,  _ pikkusiskso _ . We don’t need him fainting before things get fun, now do we?”

Kalevi scowled, but put her hand down. She was just as deadly without the use of her power anyways, and Jerome was right. She wanted some fun, and Greenwood was just the place to start. A killer of women, a flesh eater. A disgrace to humanity. She would have her fun with him.

It began as a lunge from him, though given his obesity, the woman was able to dodge easily. The katana hit the wood floor, and she heard the wood splinter. Anger spread through her as she strode to the man as calmly and collected as she could get, and slammed her boot into his nose. He groaned loudly and stumbled back. The katana slipped from his grasp into hers. Jerome whistled from the sides as the other escaped inmates and members of the Maniax chattered excitedly. Kalevi hardly noticed when Barbara Kean entered with Theo Galavan, his arms held behind his back. They stood and watched with the others as Greenwood staggered to his feet, rage coating his features.

“I’m going to chop you up and eat you for dinner, bitch!” He raced at her, but with two hands she held the katana to her side as she sidestepped and sliced open the man’s arm. Next were the biceps on his femur, giving Greenwood no choice but to fall to his knees with a cry of pain, and finally she cut straight through the lateral muscle on his back. His scream made her grin. Jerome was doing the same, but Theo Galavan was only frowning.

Kalevi leaned down to Greenwood’s ear, and whispered maliciously. “Treat your blade with respect next time.” The metal then dug back into the femoral bicep and twisted before she turned it sharply and upper cut through his thigh. Blood spurt across the blade, her boots, and the sleek and pristine floor. Now, Greenwood was screaming without end. Jerome pushed the fat man down and stepped over his squirming body, all the while applauding his little sister. He then turned to Galavan, who was still scowling at the bloody mess on his very expensive floor.

“Didn’t I tell ya, Gal? She’s perfect!” The ginger clapped her on the shoulder while he cackled. Everyone ignored Greenwood, now sobbing, on the floor. Galavan, while obviously upset by his floor, nodded.

“She will be quite instrumental, yes.”

 

“I declined him.” She stated. Jonathan stared at her. He looked absolutely ravishing with sweat across his forehead and nothing covering his lithe and oddly toned chest. She felt her arousal stir up again, but ignored it. Neither of them had the energy to go another round.

His lips spread into a smile as he brought Kalevi closer to him, his large hand spreading across her very small back, and tugged her upward to kiss her lips. She kissed him back.

“You nearly killed Greenwood, I’m proud of you.” The assassin chuckled at his words, as though he were ten years older than her. He had been born only four years before she, but there was enough experience between the both of them to constitute their condescension to those only a year younger than either of them. Of course, before coming to Gotham and meeting Jonathan, she would have done no such thing, but, her meager four months at Gotham University had shown her that she had every right to act the way that she did. Contracted killing, a brutal training regimen, experiencing the League over the course of fifteen years did that to a person.

“I don’t think Galavan was so thrilled, but Jerome enjoyed it.”

Jonathan laughed; she felt her heart flutter, a swell of love enveloped her, and she kissed him with all the love and passion she felt each time she looked into his baby blue irises. Jonathan moaned in surprised, but quickly reciprocated her sudden show of affection. When he pulled away, she reached her hand down into the sheets to palm his hard prick.

They made love once more.

 

Over the course of the next few months, Jerome enlisted the help of Jonathan and Kalevi to aid in the persuasion of Oswald Cobblepot, should he be difficult, and the only one willing to help him with his money after Theo Galavan had stabbed Jerome at a children’s benefit. The stabbing hadn’t been fatal, as Galavan was notoriously incompetent when it came to Jerome and his group of maniacs. Though, without being able to go to a hospital, Kalevi had been left to sew up her  _ isoveli. _

He’d never complained about pain before, but the moment she’d seen him fall to the stage floor with blood soaking through his shirt, she knew he’d been whining like a child the entire time he was being stitched up. Though the people were going crazy, rushing about, trying to leave, all the while Jim Gordon was attempting to sort through the chaos that Jerome and his followers had caused. In the rush, she reached out and snatched the scarf from around a hysterical woman, and covered her face. She’d come to this event with the new warden of Arkham Asylum, both to quell the suspicion that she and Scarecrow were still together, and to keep an eye Jerome during his little scheme to try and kill Bruce Wayne. She did not care too much for Bruce Wayne, while he was a generous man, he also abused the power and things he’d learned from the League. Or perhaps it was as Jerome had once told her, that she was just as crazy as the rest of them, and disliked Wayne for the same reasons they all did: he spoiled the fun. But she did so, too, when the occasion struck her, so she did not see why Jerome would say such a thing. It was almost as if he wished she were as mad as all of the others, but even if he did, she was not, and though she once had been, she did not want to return to that life. It had drained her far too much.

The scarf over her nose and mouth reeked of perfume, causing her to shove down her gag reflex and instead focus on saving Jerome. He was all that mattered. Her  _ isoveli  _ was wounded, and she would do anything to keep him safe.

She pushed past the hoard of people, ignoring the call of her name from Warden Sharp. When she reached Jerome, she knelt down next to his ear and whispered that she would get him out of the building. And she did. She managed to avoid Galavan, and made it to the alleyway before rummaging through a now drifting Jerome’s suit for the cellular phone she knew he kept tucked inside. Once she found it, she was quick to dial Jonathan’s number. Their conversation was brief, with Kalevi instructing Jonathan to bring as many rolls of gauze as he could, three needles, black thread, and two unopened bottles of whiskey, then advised him to hurry. When he hung up, Kalevi smacked Jerome in the mouth. His bright eyes flew open in rage, and he moved forward to wrap his hands around the throat in front of him and throttle the woman to death; however, white hair flashed in front of him.

“Get yourself together, keep your eyes open. I need you to stay awake.” Jerome’s eyes fluttered, and while he tried to keep them open, the pain of the knife inside only one of its wounds was blinding. He moved to remove the offensive blade, but Kalevi stopped him. She removed the scarf from her face and pressed it against Jerome’s side, grimacing when he cried out and nearly hit her himself.

“You’re already bleeding enough, I don’t need you bleeding _out,_ _isoveli._ ” He listened for once, and laughed through his pain.

“Where did you learn first aid, sis?” Kalevi shrugged as she began to tug his suit jacket off with difficulty. She eventually got it, and tore apart pieces to press against his bleeding abdomen. It wasn’t until he cried out again that she spoke.

“You remember my complicated past and my fake name? Well, during that complicated past, I was taught how to deal with a number of things. One of them was what you Americans call first aid.” She remained as stoic as possible as Jerome tried his hardest not to flail against Kalevi’s hands, the hands that were trying to hold off his death, but also causing him great pain.

“And what did your mysteriously complicated past call first aid, huh?” He choked out.

“ _ Sairaanhoidon. _ ”

Jerome laughed. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“My native language can be difficult, but there is no denying that it is one of the most beautiful.” She looked up at the sight of headlights at the end of the alley, and waved frantically. Jonathan turned the headlights off before putting the vehicle in park. When he stepped out, he was holding the whiskey, but upon laying eyes on Jerome he nearly dropped it. Kalevi pulled it from him with haste, chastising him and telling him to hurry with the rest. She advised Jerome to drink long and hard before she poured whiskey over his bare skin and covered his mouth as he let out a loud cry. When he’d finished, Kalevi made him suckle on the bottle until he felt buzzed, possibly even a little drunk. He did so.

She then instructed Jonathan to make sure that Jerome did not scream when she pulled the knife out, and to continue doing so as she stitched him up.

She poured whiskey from the second bottle over Jerome’s wound, took a swig herself, and set to work stitching the first wound. She was surprised to find that Jerome only grunted in pain with each pull of needle and thread, which was pleasant enough.

“Take a big drink, this is going to hurt.” He followed her order, and when she was sure he wouldn’t choke, she nodded at Jonathan; her lover covered Jerome’s mouth, allowing her to rip the knife from Jerome’s side, then press more torn cloth to him before she poured another large. He screamed into Jonathan’s hand, but did not bite. Kalevi began to sew up the wound, and when she was finished, she poured more whiskey over both wounds, then drank the rest. Her heart rate slowed.

 

That morning, a mere two hours before the sun rose, Kalevi sat next to the window of her home, the diminishing cherry of a joint lighting her face as she inhaled once more. Since coming to Gotham, rather America in general, she had been adamant about keeping her blood lust quelled, and it seemed that anyone and everyone who wanted the same smoked marijuana. Since her beginning, she’d found the effects of both strains rather pleasant, but Jonathan disliked both smell and high alike. So, due to her absolute love and respect for the man, she smoked outside of their shared room.

Tonight, though, after their routine session of rough sex and tender kisses afterward, she had more to watch than just the lingering smell of pot; she was left with the image of a now resting Jerome Valeska. Crazy as he was, he looked peaceful when sleeping, His breathing was even, and his soft face was at rest, not grinning like the madman that he was. His ginger hair was messy, but in an attractive way. If she had not met Jonathan first, it would have been likely that she give her heart to Jerome, willing he would’ve taken it in such a way. She doubted he would have. She inhaled on the blunt once more. The feeling overtook her in a matter of minutes. Her body seemed to slow and settle in, as though she’d always been separate from it in some way. She felt like a kinder human, and her blood lust melted away. Everything felt better, but somehow surreal. The energy that engulfed her hand when she opened her hand entranced her, and all else fell away as she pulled the engraved Zippo lighter toward her.

“You okay sweets?” Kalevi jumped. Jerome’s voice was raw from all the screaming he’d done only hours before. 

“I’m fine. Just…”

“High.” Kalevi stood up and strode to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of water. She forced herself not to marvel at how the cold felt against her warming hands. She sat on the edge of the sofa and removed the screw cap on the bottle and made Jerome drink.

“Just a little. It keeps me from wanting someone’s blood.”

“Maybe you should stop smoking.” He tried to laugh, but only cough up water and phlegm. Kalevi sighed and wiped up the mess with Jonathan’s sleeve. She would wash it in the morning if it upset him.

“Shut up and lie still. I’ll be right back.” She pressed her lips against Jerome’s in a chaste kiss and walked off. Jerome was left reeling, hoping that the kiss had not meant was his mind, now racing, thought it meant. 

She returned with a fresh pile of bandages and alcohol. She seemed unfazed by the kiss, and perhaps because she was high, she didn’t really know why she’d shown such vulnerability to Jerome. She handed him the bottle with the order to take a large sampling of it. She tore off the old bandages, and went about disinfecting and cleaning the dried blood to the best of her ability, hearing only a hiss from her brother every time she was too rough on his still tender skin. When she finished, she took the bottle from Jerome and made him drink more water.

When Kalevi and Jonathan woke once more, Jerome was still sleeping. Kalevi kept the revelation from the night before to herself. After so long with him, she’d found Jonathan capable of harbouring great amounts of jealousy. She did, however, share with her lover that she meant to ask, possibly forcibly convince, the Penguin, to fund Jerome’s new expenditure.

 

Penguin’s lair was exactly as she had imagined. Dark, foreboding, and filled with music. If she’d still been high, she might not have been able to do her job. More and more of the criminal underground in Gotham fascinated and excited her. The marble counters were smooth underneath her hand, the metal of the bar taps felt comforting when she felt out for them, even the feeling of the shotgun beneath the spotted marble, laid upon a wooden shelf, made her feel more in tune with herself, and society.

“Miss Fischer. I wasn’t expecting you today. Usually people who want to see me make appointments.” Kalevi turned to Oswald and smiled, unsurprised.

“Please, Oswald, no need for such formalities. I’m simply here to ask something of you.” Oswald placed the file he was holding on the marble, using his cane to walked himself to the other side and pulled two glasses from the cabinet beneath her. The blonde woman sat and asked Oswald for gin. He poured happily, and they began to palaver.

 

“Oswald complied easily enough. You needn’t worry,  _ isoveli. _ ” Jerome smiled as he leaned back on the sofa. His colour, what he had, was returning and any day now he would set his plan into motion. He hadn’t told Kalevi of his twin brother, or the mayor, or Bruce Wayne, for he knew she would stop him. She’d never truly let go of the do-gooder inside of her, but Jerome thought he’d found a way past that. If all went according to plan, she would join him in his quest to drive all of Gotham mad, and enjoy doing so in the process.

“Kal,” she cringed at the nickname, but he continued. “There’s one more thing I have to do. And I’m taking Jonathan with me.” At the mention of her lover, the woman sat straight. Jerome laughed. “Jonathan has already agreed, and we both know he wouldn’t if he didn’t want to.”

She fumed. “Scarecrow agreeing doesn’t count.” Jerome waved her off, scoffing incredulously.

“Well, you seem to be the only one besides Riddler who can see the difference.” For the first time since their meeting, Kalevi felt an urge to smack Jerome. She refrained, though, opting instead to stand up and chastise her friend. 

“You have no regard for him at all, I don’t think you see what goes on with him, you  _ refuse  _ to do so! Before Jonathan and I were even together I could see the difference. You are a short sighted, self-centered, loathsome individual!” Jerome sat up quickly, ignoring the pain that flared in his abdomen, and gripped Kalevi’s wrist harshly; so much so, that small crescents were imprinted into her fair skin. She twisted and managed to turn the situation on Jerome, despite the blood seeping onto her sleeve. The warrior hardly noticed.

“Don’t try me, Jerome.” The ginger used her grip to pull the woman closer, her loose, pale blonde hair falling like a curtain over their faces. 

“You won’t hurt me, sis. If you wanted to, you could’ve broken my arm. You can spend all your time with Crane on that day, if you really want. I don’t give a shit. But don’t you  _ ever _ talk to me like that again. There’s a single difference between us, little sister.  _ I don’t care. _ And you do.” He crept forward, closer to her ear. They had never been so close before. “And one day that’s going to change.”

 

Jerome had never been more correct. A single week later, his plan was set into motion. Jonathan disappeared the day before, so it was Scarecrow that fucked her the night before. All was in disarray, as Jerome had wanted it. Penguin was scared, Kalevi could see it in his eyes. He’d even confronted her about going to Jim Gordon about Jerome’s insane plan, but she didn’t know what he meant. Her lack of knowledge drove Penguin away, as though he were afraid that Kalevi would sell him out to Jerome, but if she had known just how insane his plan was, she would not have hesitated to stop Jerome. But she didn’t.

Scarecrow brushed Kalevi off when she offered to go with him, Oswald, and Jervis. He had insisted that if she came, she would only hinder him; which she supposed was true. Scarecrow only cared for her so much, but if she became insistent enough, Scarecrow would vanish into the recesses of Jonathan’s mind and Jonathan would place whatever it was that they needed on a side burner to make sure that Kalevi was alright. And today, she supposed, that would be most unwanted. So she went with Jerome. The crowd was relatively small, but she supposed that Jerome had a scheme that would take all of Gotham’s attention and hold tight. At first she merely stayed on as a spectator, but the moment she saw Jerome shaking his hips in front of the bass drum on stage she covered her face and faded into the shadows, nothing to be seen except for a small blue tinge. 

Jerome was a wonderful stageman, as always, which she admired. She had never learned theatrics from the League, as the usual policy was to take the money offered, and kill. There was no in between. Though she had managed to learn much from Jerome in their small amount of time together.

Her listening faded in and out, mostly keeping an eye on the crowd to ensure that no one missed out on the finale. All the politicians and saints were marched onstage, with their own death warrants strapped to their necks; secretly, she hoped Jerome would kill them all. She’d always found that politicians and religious leaders, while the most frequent she was contracted to kill, were the worst of humanity. It had never truly fazed her when Ra’s had tasked her with the responsibility of the death of a politician. Small scale, or no, they were monsters. Her ears did begin to pay attention when he mentioned Bruce Wayne. The dashing billionaire fresh from self exile, and Jeremiah. She’d never heard the name Jeremiah before, not in the fondness that Jerome used it, but her heart did stop when he called him his brother.

Jeremiah and Bruce arrived within the hour, after the death of a bishop to convince them that Jerome meant business. He always did, though. The pair went up only after the death of all the officers that had been stationed up in the top tier surrounding the stage, meant to end Jerome’s life. But Kalevi had taken note of all the vantage points days before. She could’ve spotted them from down the block. Her inaction, however, ended when Jerome strapped a bomb around both Bruce and Jeremiah. Her dagger fell into her palm and she tossed it effortlessly, the blade landing at Jerome’s feet. He stared into the dark where Kalevi was located and smiled wide, but she could see the enragement behind his bright green eyes. “Come here, little sis. Come meet your other big brother.”

Her boots made little sound against the ground, and what sound they did made was swallowed by the breathless crowd. A fearsome woman walked onstage, the bottom half of her face covered, and blonde hair pinned and hidden beneath a dark hood. Jerome motioned her to come further, stopping her in front of Jeremiah. She turned to face him, her back to the crowd. There was sympathy in her eyes; she then turned to Jerome. 

“I cannot let this go any further. Let Wayne and this man go. Kill the rest, I don’t care.” The crowd gasped collectively, but the muttering silence when both Kalevi, with her steel blue eyes, and Jerome, his deep emerald ones, stared out with murder inside of them. Jerome let the microphone drop to the stage, as though he did not hear the deafening feedback. Once more, his grip left indents as he turned her to Jeremiah and ripped off her mask. 

“Meet little sis Kal, Jeremiah. Isn’t she a wonderful addition? Just as insane as both of us!” His voice was high and giddy, though Jeremiah, and visible intellectual, flinched away. Kalevi leaned down to his ear. 

“Don’t ask me how, but you will leave this stage alive. Though you won’t make it far if you tell anyone what I look like, yes?” She heard a soft grunt from Jeremiah. Smart. Jerome was grinning at Kalevi when she pulled away. She pulled up her mask before turning back to Jerome, a look of resentment in her eyes. Blue energy seeped through her palms, feeling for the electromagnetic field emitted from the collars and their controller, but it was not there. Not as it had been before, almost as if it had been nullified. Her blue eyes moved from Jeremiah to Bruce, as did her energy. She found the source of the disturbance inside of Bruce’s jacket pocket. Something that would disconnect the collars from the controller. Bruce frowned at her; he was the only one onstage that knew who she truly was. She stared down at him, a silent threat. His eyes showed no sign of exposing her; he remained silent. 

Jerome cackled and he released Jeremiah’s restraints and handed him a knife. Jeremiah stood and, in a fit of rage, lunged for Jerome. Jerome punched him straight in the mouth and laughed when his twin hit the ground unconscious.His plan was in motion, and Kalevi didn’t know it. For the first time since Jonathan had dosed her with the fear toxin, she felt truly afraid.

 

Fear. Insanity. Laughter. That was what Jerome brough to the world. Everything was colliding at once, bombarding her mind, harming her heart. It hurt so much, to see the man she called brother fall in such a short amount of time. The sequence of events that led to it happened within the blink of an eye. Bridget was shot down, as were the other Rogues that stood on the stage, except for Jerome. No one dared touch him with the dead man’s trigger in his right hand. Not even the famed Jim Gordon.

Kalevi dared, though. The moments things began to fall apart, she reached out to the trigger and silenced it’s reach entirely. People gasped and dove away, but nothing happened. Bruce had made her job that much easier. 

Her brother growled and reached for the trigger, but Kalevi raised her hand, fingers curling; the trigger’s box groaned in response. 

“I swear I will destroy it. You know that I could. And I would not bat a lash.” Jerome waggled his finger at Kalevi.

“I knew there was a reason I call you sister. But hand it over. Or,” He produced a switchblade from his jacket and pressed the blade to Bruce’s cheek. “I’ll scar pretty boy billionaire. Maybe I’ll slit his throat while I’m at it.. And you wouldn’t like that.” His lips were pursed in a false pout. 

“Jerome!” It was Jim Gordon. “Let them go! And we can deal with this one on one!” The aforementioned ginger just laughed off the detective’s proposal and raised his shoulders. Kalevi’s own blue orbs hit Gordon in a look of scorn. He’d never done any good for her, except perpetuating that she was still with Jonathan. He was too good of a detective, and appreciated protocol over people; a constant thorn in the side of anyone trying to do real good for Gotham, people like Lee Thompkins, even Bruce and Selina Kyle. 

The trigger waved in the air, making Jim take a step back. She issued a decree to the people of Gotham that had been trapped in the area by Jerome.

“Go! Leave! I know where the guns are, this is between those of us on this stage and Jim Gordon. Take your leave and don’t return!” When no one moved, she pushed the trigger out over the crowd, holding it hardly three feet above the tallest head. They then moved far quicker. Her head turned to Jerome.

“There is no crowd now, no one to traumatize. Let these people go. Let your  _ brother  _ go.” Jerome used his gloved hand to stroke his face before shaking his head. 

“I think this is much more fun.” He kissed Kalevi’s forehead before ripping the hood back and vanishing before her eyes. Her white braid fell from its intricate pinning and over her shoulder; in her shock, she dropped the trigger. The politicians gasped, but nothing happened. The part of her that had looked up to Jerome had wished it had gone off, blown the heads from those that truly corrupted Gotham, but it didn’t. 

Jim took off after Jerome, where she knew not. Her fingers twisted, releasing the locks on all of the collars. She knelt down to shake Jeremiah awake. His breath turned from even to a large gasp as he turned over, then maneuvered to sit up. Now that she could focus on him, she found him and his brother, while having their differences, were very similar. Jeremiah’s skin was a sickly kind of pale, his hair, while slicked back smoothly and professionally, was a bright ginger, and his eyes were a pale green. His suit was mauve, with a matching tie. Her breath hitched at the sight. While he and Jerome were both someone she thought she could look up to, Jeremiah reminded her of Jonathan. Too much so. At the sight of her hair, Jeremiah began to stutter., but something drew their attention. 

A gunshot. 

Moments passed. Jeremiah, Bruce, and Kalevi rushed into the empty, open space. 

There was a second bang. And the sound of insane laughter. 

A loud crash followed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a second part focusing on the aftermath of Jerome's death, how it affects Kalevi, and what transpires after with Jeremiah.


End file.
